


Heart of Gold

by junko



Series: Tag, You're It... [7]
Category: Gangsta. (Manga)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Drug Addiction, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 07:38:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4697771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the lam after the incident at Big Mama's last night, Nic and Worick lay low at a friend's place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart of Gold

Sometimes, Nic thought, things were okay.

Like, right this moment. Nic sat on a ratty couch in a tiny, narrow basement apartment of a friend of Worick’s. Early morning peeked in through lace curtains. The dappled sun shifted in a gentle breeze. A calico kitten pounced at the shifting dots of light on the floor. Smells of bacon and strong tea filled the apartment.

As did books. So many books.

The friend, Tabitha, handed Nic a mug of tea. She was very much Worick’s type: dark-skinned, curvy, and a bit of a fusser, a caretaker. She had an easy, open smile and the most enchanting hair Nic had ever seen: thin, tight braids that fell nearly to her waist. 

Worick nudged Nic in the ribs. “Gorgeous, huh?”

Nic would have agreed, but Tabitha was already saying, “You don’t need to flatter me, Worick, I already said you two could stay here as long as you need.” She waved a manicured hand in a ‘poo-poo’ gesture as she settled into the overstuffed chair across from them. She set her own tea mug down on a pile of books that clearly doubled as a side-table.

“Tabitha, dear, it’s not flattery when it’s truth,” Worick said, throwing his arms wide over the back of the couch. 

She laughed and shook her head. To Nic, she asked, “Is he always like this?”

Nic nodded seriously. For Worick’s benefit, he signed: _Incorrigible_.

Worick laughed and translated, “He says I’m incorrigible.”

Tired with the sunlight, the calico kitten leaped at the laces of Nic’s shoes. He wanted to reach down and stroke the kitten’s fur, feel the softness, ticklish like Worick’s scruffy beard, but Nic was coming down off the uppers--hard and fast. If the little calico jumped at his hand, Nic was afraid he might react without thinking. So, he held on tight to the warmth of the tea mug instead.

Worick nudged him. “Hey,” he said. “Why don’t you pull out the bed? I’m… I’ll join you later,” he glanced at where Tabitha was headed into the bedroom. Then, he gave Nic a broad wink, which was silly given he only had the one good eye to begin with. Still, Nick got the point. 

Nic watched Worick disappear through the door. After Worick was gone, he hunted through the silly pink purse until he found the downers. He crunched down a couple. Then, not bothering with the bed, he flopped down on the couch and turned his face away. He was glad he couldn’t hear the sounds that were coming out of the bedroom.

Earlier tonight, he’d been jealous of a guy named Trevor. Now he was jealous of a trans woman named Tabitha.

The fuck. Nic decided he hated everyone whose name started with ‘T.’

#

Much later and after a long, hot shower, Worick came back out into the living room to discover Nic completely sacked out on the couch, using the purse as a pillow, and the little calico kitten curled up on his hip. He hadn’t even taken off his shoes. The katana leaned against the arm of the couch, looking ready to be knocked over the second Nic shifted his feet. Still, Worick knew better than to move it out of the way. You’d think you could get away with it, given Nic couldn’t hear a damn thing, but the man had a second sense when it came to that katana.

With a sigh, Worick settled down on the overstuffed chair. He wore a pair of pajama pants Tabitha had loaned him. Sparkly stars decorated the fabric and they were a little loose at the hips, but they were long enough in the legs to be an okay fit.

Tabitha had asked more than once if Nic wanted to join them.

It’d pained Worick, just a little, to say he had no fucking idea if Nic would want to. When she’d said, “Just ask him,” Worick had shook his head and muttered, “It’s complicated.”

“Are you into me?” Worick asked Nic’s sleeping form.

Tabitha came out of the bedroom dressed for work. Even though Worick knew her from the sex trade, Tabitha had scored a day job. She worked as a waitress and looked adorable in the little uniform. “It’s cheating to ask when he can’t hear you.”

“He never hears me.”

“You know what I mean,” Tabitha said. After blowing him a kiss, which Worick made a production of catching and pressing to his heart, she headed out the door.

The moment the door swung back against its frame, the cat jumped off Nic’s hip and Nic’s head popped up. He seemed to take a moment to remember his surroundings, and then he dropped his head back down. When his head hit the hard pink plastic of the purse, he bounced up again. And, when he picked it up to move it somewhere, he finally noticed Worick. Then, with that liquid, inhuman grace he had, he sat up, somehow managing to leave the katana undisturbed. He set the purse in his lap and signed, _Morning_.

“I notice you skipped the ‘good,’” Worick smiled. His head hurt. He really craved his morning cigarette. Barring that, he thought a cup of coffee might help. Standing up, he decided to see what he could find in Tabitha’s kitchen. 

Nic rubbed his head and yawned.

Tabitha had a small coffee maker, and it looked like it could make at least two cups. After rooting around in all the cabinets, Worick finally thought to check the freezer. He found the beans and the grinder. In a minute, the pot was percolating. Worick leaned against the fridge half-dozing, watching the pot. Coming up silently, Nic tapped him on the shoulder. _Your friend left._

“Yeah, she’s got a day job.”

Nic nodded. _Nice for some_.

“You think I should work in a cafe?”

Nic made a face. _I didn’t say that. Anyway, didn’t we try that sort of legitimate thing? It doesn’t pay enough._

“It’s because you’re so goddamn high-maintenance,” Worick teased, but he forgot that Nic couldn’t hear his tone. He tried to quickly put on a smile, but it was too late.

 _I know._ Nic signed, his face hard; his hands brusque and angry. _You think I don’t know? That’s why I’ve always said this whole charade is pointless._

“What charade? The one where you pretend to be human or the one where I pretend I’ve got some kind of heart of gold?”

Nic’s hands went up as though to say, ‘whichever.’ “ **pOIntLEss**.”

“Jesus Christ, don’t waste that ugly voice to tell me something I already know,” Worick spat. He turned away long enough to pour Nic a cup. The mug was pink and sparkly letters spelled out ‘Grrl Power.’ Handing it over, he looked Nic in the eye, “You know what? All that shit *is* pointless. What matters is what we’re going to fucking do today. Are you going to go back to Monroe and face the music?”

Nic frowned at his reflection in the coffee for a long time. Then, his posture seemed to deflate. Leaning a hip up against the scarred and battered kitchen counter that was piled high with dirty dishes, he let out a sigh. 

“I assume that’s a ‘yes,’” Worick said, after pouring himself a cup. The coffee was bitter and strong enough to cut the edge off his headache. “You want me to come with you? Not that there’s much I could do, except say you misbehaved for me. You think he’d buy it, if I said you were under orders?”

Taking a sip, Nic set the coffee up in one of the very few empty spaces on the counter. Turning his face away, like he did when he wasn’t going to say anything more on the subject, he signed: _You think your friend would loan me a book?_

“Yes, but you’re not looking at me so fuck off.” Worick walked over to the nearest bookshelf, took out a title without looking at it, and threw it at Nic.

Of course the bastard caught it. Without even spilling his coffee.

At least Nic was looking at him again. “I’m coming with you to Monroe’s.”

“ **fiNe**.”

#

Except that Nic didn’t want to go back there, to Monroe’s estate. He was really fucking starting to hate ‘estates,’ and he was damn sure he was facing more than a little beating if he returned this time. He’d overheard something said about Delico once. Something he’d seen at a distance, something that no one would have thought he could read. It’d involved a kennel… and jokes about Tags and dogs.

Fuck that shit.

Worick thought he could smooth things over. Maybe he could. Monroe liked to play at the kindly father figure--especially to Worick. But, unless Worick was planning to stay, there kind of wasn’t any point to it. They’d just wait until Worick was gone, and then Nic’d be at the mercy of whoever held his Celebrer.

When Worick wandered back into the bedroom to get dressed, Nic sat himself back down on the couch. He ate a breakfast of coffee with a chaser of a handful of uppers and, digging through a nearby stack, found a title of a book that amused him, some terrible mystery pun: Hole in Juan.

Golf, however, turned out to be far too alien a sport for Nic to even begin to comprehend, so he was looking for a better choice, maybe a nice, light romantic comedy, when Worick came back out.

“You ready?”

Making a show of putting his feet up on the table, Nic shook his head. _I’m staying here and reading. You go on._

“Ha. Ha,” Worick said, and the face he made allowed Nic to understand he didn’t find that amusing at all. Standing in the doorway, he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “We can’t hide from Monroe. We have to figure out how to work with him.”

Nic wasn’t terribly interested in working things out with Monroe. He glanced out the window. Through the lace, the sky looked overcast, cloudy, chilly. _Not today_ , he signed. _Looks like rain. Maybe tomorrow._

The kitten settled into Nic’s lap, as though in agreement. He could feel the gentle vibration of the purr against his thigh. 

Worick stood in the doorway for a long time, frowning. Eventually, his arms dropped and he let out an exaggerated sigh. “You’re a stubborn son-of-a-bitch, you know that, right?”

Nic patted the spot beside him on the couch.

“I hate reading,” Worick complained, making a fast-flipping motion with his hands.

 _Then nap_ , Nic suggested. _Or go buy some cigarettes and sit here and smoke and complain. You seem to enjoy bitching._

Worick chuckled. “And you say I’m incorrigible.”

_While you’re out, get some milk._

#

The world was falling apart around them and Nic had sent him out shopping. Worick stuck to the backways, watchful of anyone he knew to be connected to either Big Mama or Monroe. In this town, that wasn’t easy. And he didn’t know everyone. 

Not yet, anyway.

At least he didn’t have to make a separate run to the grocery. Granny offered him a carton of milk from her own mini-fridge. “Wow,” Worick said, trying to lean over the counter to see inside the tiny tobacco stand. “What else you got back there?”

She smacked the top of his head hard enough that his chin hit the wooden counter. “Private lady things. Keep your nose out, boy. And I expect to be paid for the milk.”

After rubbing the top of his head, Worick dutifully dug out the bills from last night’s debacle. 

She watched him with pursed lips. Then she clucked her tongue, “Oh forget it,” she snapped. “I don’t need your filthy bills. A growing boy like you should have milk.”

Worick tried not to laugh at the irony of her willingness to sell him cigarettes, while fussing over his health, but he quickly shoved the money back in his pocket before she changed her mind again. “You’re a sweetheart,” he enthused. “Thank you, grandma.”

She shook her head at him. “You’re in trouble, fool. Everybody is talking about last night.” She handed him the milk and then smacked his head again. “What were you thinking? You know how Corsica feels about... them.”

Worick leaned against the counter and opened up his pack of cigarettes. He shook one out and, after tapping it against the pack, he lit up. Ah, that first drag. Blessed. He let the smoke out slowly, savoring it. “Mama hired Nic on her own,” Worick pointed out, knowing full well that what he said here would get disseminated out onto the streets. “It’s not my fault that she didn’t ask about his credentials before she signed him on. It’s not like I snuck him in; she paid him to be security.”

“He was hiding his Tags,” Granny pointed out.

“Yeah, well, wouldn’t you?”

Granny grunted. It started to drizzle; Worick pulled up the collar on his jacket against the wet and chill. As he grabbed the carton of milk to go, he saw two familiar faces approaching.

Yang and Delico.

Fuck.

But they’d already spotted him, so he plastered on a bright smile and waved. In a flirty voice, he shouted out, “Hiya, boys!”

Yang smiled and waved back. Delico looked vaguely morose, as usual. When they were close enough Yang stopped in front of him. Casually putting his hands on his hips, he exposed the butt of his gun in its holster to Worick’s view. “Seen that partner of yours?”

Delico scanned the rooftops, clearly searching for signs of Nic. 

“Not recently,” Worick lied easily and without hesitation. 

“Rumor says Nico was at Big Mama’s last night,” Yang said. “You work there.”

Having finished his smoke,Worick flicked the butt across the street toward the gutter. With a sarcastic chuckle, he said, “Ah, I see, you’re using that detective brain of yours and putting two and two together, eh, Yang? As I told Granny, he wasn’t working for me last night. He was doing Big Mama a favor.”

“Like we’re supposed to believe that,” Delico said, his one, visible, bright blue eye pinning Worick’s gaze. “Big Mama’s is owned by Corsica.”

“Yes, I am well aware of that fact,” Worick smiled.

Delico sighed. “Let’s cut all this crap. You know where Nico is, Rikky. Don’t make us beat it out of you.”

If Delico wasn’t a Tag, the threat would be laughable. Both him and Yang were just barely out of puberty, all long limbs and gawky. But, as Worick well knew, even a low-end, pre-teen Tag could do some serious damage. And then there was the matter of Yang’s gun. Yang wouldn’t shoot him, but being pistol-whipped hurt. At lot. And Worick needed his face. It paid the bills.

“Monroe thinks Nico has a girl he’s sweet on at Big Mama’s,” Yang said out of the blue, changing tacks. His conspiratorial tone completely destroyed the tough guy threat they’d had going on there for moment. “Is that true?”

Worick was so surprised by the sudden change of tone and the question that he just stupidly repeated: “A girl?”

Yang and Delico exchanged wide-eyed glances. “A boy, then?”

“Uh… well,” Worick started. “Nic doesn’t really talk to me about that kind of stuff. Ever.” Worick didn’t even have to fake the disappointment in his voice at that. In fact, he thought about leaving things there. However, if these two asked around Big Mama’s, Monroe’s snitches might remember seeing him and Nic together. That could spell big trouble. So, he thought maybe he should... obfuscate. Not lie, of course. Just talk. About things. Things that could go together if you thought they should. “There are lots of faces that could turn heads at Mama’s. That new boy, Trevor, is a doll.”

Another exchanged glance and then Yang nodded. “Thanks for the tip, Rikky.”

“Tip?” Worick asked trying to look mortified. “What are you talking about? Wait, don’t go jumping to the wrong conclusion! I didn’t say Nic was with Trevor. Trevor’s not even his type!”

Yang give Worick the ‘bang’ finger point and a broad, ‘gotcha’ smile. “Sure he isn’t.”

Once they were well out of sight, Worick lit another cigarette. Blowing out the smoke, he muttered, “Actually, he isn’t. Not in the least. Though fuck if I know who is.”

#

Nic was thinking about Worick’s body. 

Tabitha, it turned out, had a preponderance of romance novels. Nic had just come across his very first bosom/throbbing manhood scene. Reading it had been a strange experience. Some of the words were ridiculous, but it worked. The images painted in his head had turned him on. In fact, there’d been a long, flowery description of the hero’s taut, glistening abs, and Nic found himself considering the fact that Worick was actually surprisingly ripped for a Normal.

Nic set the book down, his thumb marking the spot. Staring at the wall, his hand absently stroked the kitten curled in his lap and he recalled the sensation of Worick on top of him. 

Nobody had ever gotten that close to Nic without the intention of violence before, and the experience had been as exciting as it had been disconcerting. The ticklish whiskers had been adorable. But, there had also been heat… 

Desire...?

Maybe so. Plus, reading this book made sense of some other things. Like, how put off Worick had been the other night. 

Worick had acted not unlike the heroine--all moody and uncommunicative. In the book, she’d done that because she’d felt like the hero hadn’t paid enough attention, didn’t love her back.

Huh.

Nic glanced at the clock. Worick had been gone over an hour now. If he was being cautious and doubling-back to shake any trails, it was still a reasonable amount of time to be gone. But, if he wasn’t back in fifteen….

Just then a shadow passed the windowell. Nic and the cat both jumped up and turned toward the door. But it was only Tabitha. She shook the rain from her hair and gave him a smile. “We had to quit early,” she said. “The rain is coming down too hard for people to want to wait outside a food truck.”

Nic tried to act like he gave a fuck. If Worick were here, he’d probably help Tabitha off with her coat or with the bags of groceries she’d brought in. But, Nic had stood there, unmoving, a beat too long, and she was already in the tiny kitchenette putting things away. Her face was turned towards him slightly. She was probably talking about something, but Nic’s eyes were on the dark sky and heavy rain.

Screw fifteen minutes. He needed to find Worick now. Careful not to let the kitten out, Nic grabbed his jacket and ducked out into the rain.

#

The rain came down in buckets, soaking Worick to the bone. Wet hair clung to his face and he felt cold and miserable. But, at least it wasn’t far to Tabitha’s house now. He’d shaken off at least one tail, but he still wanted to be extra cautious. He’d never forgive himself if he led anyone to Tabitha's place. This wasn’t her fight.

Poking his head out around the corner, he glanced left and then right. He was just about to check up when he heard someone land behind him, hard. Damn it, he’d been spotted after all. 

Spinning around, Worick tossed the milk carton at… Nic?

Using his super-human speed, Nic ducked. But he continued to come in, as though for an attack. “Nic, what are you…?” but then arms wrapped tightly around Worick’s waist and his mouth was caught up in a kiss.

A kiss?

It was hard. Serious. Sloppy as fuck, but...

Real.


End file.
